Blazing Light
by MidnightxBluexBlack
Summary: There was something that Grendel wanted, and he could never have it. For that, he hated them...


_Summary: There was something that Grendel wanted, and he could never have it. For that, he hated them..._

This is something kind of completely random. It was basically a high school English assignment, but I really like it, so I decided to go ahead and post it. I just wanted to put a bit of a twist onto Grendel's character, and that's what this reflects. Thanks for reading it!

MidnightxBluexBlack does not own _Beowulf_.

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**Blazing Light**

Night swept down upon the land,  
The Danes and the Geats,  
Slowly but surely settling  
Into the warm, murky business  
Of sleep. The sun's magnificent rays  
Melted away from God's vast plane  
As all of His dominion rested,  
Rejuvenating for the coming day.  
The Geats, the Danes, all slept and rested,  
But on the outside, a terror stirred,  
Once again awakened  
By the revelry and merriment,  
The feasting and celebration  
In Hrothgar's vast, rude mead-hall.

Grendel, the shadow-stalker,  
Cursed by God, emerged from his den,  
Smiling: Once again,  
The Danes would know fear  
And experience once again  
The taste of blood, and of suffering,  
And of Death. Like a shadow, Grendel  
Went forth, the very land beneath him  
Shrinking from under him: The very touch  
Of his limbs on the ground causing it to stir:  
The very scent of his breath in the air causing  
The space around him to quiver.

And so it was thus that Grendel  
Made his way to the mead-hall, all creatures  
Shirking from his very presence. The night-killer  
Pushed his way past the hall's vast iron-braced doors,  
And crept deep into the hall. He saw,  
Laying scattered across the floor,  
That the company of Danes had somehow grown!

Grendel peered around at the company,  
And his eyes became a burning fire! Who were these?  
These pathetic humans who clung to each other,  
Who grouped together like flocks of birds?  
Who, despite their weakness and stupidity,  
Still insisted on joining with each other in unity,  
Filling their lives with such follies as  
Companionship and camaraderie!  
Grendel's rage grew strong, blazing within  
Him like the Devil's raging inferno.  
These creatures, though they were all one,  
And remained together through their bonds  
Of love and life, still shunned and beat  
Those that were different. Grendel's anger grew  
As he remembered how he, alone, peacefully,  
Without a threat in his heart, had approached the Danes,  
Seeking to share in their warmth, their light.  
He remembered, also, how they had shouted,  
And ran at them with their stabbing-blades and their tooth-spears,  
They had ran him off, unwilling to share their warmth,  
Stealing from Grendel the hope in his heart  
The glowing orb of kindness that still survived within him,  
And dashing it to the winds, trampling and crushing it!  
Grendel remembered these pains,  
Remembered the fear that had replaced that orb of hope,  
And the rage that burned into his soul like Satan's fire,  
And he only saw before him those who did not deserve the light,  
Those that were unworthy of the radiance of day and of life.

His rage boiled inside of him like a charging beast,  
And he struck out fast, grasping in his claws  
The nearest Dane that he could find.  
He felt the man-flesh rip underneath his force,  
Felt the satisfaction in his heart as one oath-breaker,  
One liar's life was ripped away from him.  
Then, as Grendel sought to continue his revenge,  
To pursue his strike against those that tore his heart asunder,  
He saw before him a man, tall and proud,  
Unlike any other that had stood before him before.

This man wore no armor, his arms completely bare,  
Utterly unprotected from Grendel's killing-teeth.  
Swordless, also, was this man, possessing no stabbing-blade,  
Nothing with which to defend himself.  
And the night-stalker laughed, finding humor  
In the mans' folly. Who was this fool that stood before him,  
Seeking to destroy his life when not even Lord Hrothgar's  
Finest warriors could even lift a finger against him?  
Who was this imbecile who sought to defeat him,  
Swordless and friendless, utterly unaided?  
Grendel laughed, this man stood dead.  
And Grendel laughed.

"Why do you laugh, beast?" the man uttered,  
His word-hoard, his charisma lost on Grendel.  
"I am Beowulf, son of Ecgtheoe, sent by Hygelac, king of the Geats,  
To defeat you for Lord Hrothgar. I have slain many a monster,  
Many a foe, and none have bested me. Now,  
I have taken it upon myself and my honor,  
To slay you here, and deliver your corpse to the Danes  
So that they may sleep once again in peace, without fear of you  
And your night-shadows. You will find only death at my hands."

Grendel's laugh died in his throat  
As the man before him, as Beowulf finished. To think,  
That this human stood before him, fully prepared  
To fight to the death. So confident was this man,  
So sure of himself, that Grendel could see himself  
In this man's eyes. He could see himself in this human,  
How he might be if he was good, how he could have been,  
Had the Danes not driven him away.  
This man had all that Grendel desired. The shadow-stalker,  
A deadly growl building in the depths of his chest,  
Struck out, his killing-talons outstretched,  
Striking to gut the dream-stealer, to take away his life,  
His light. How dare he!

Beowulf struck out, however, catching the night-walker  
In his strong grasp, holding him tight with the strength of thirty men.  
Grendel squirmed, jerking and hissing, fighting with every ounce,  
Every measure of strength that his body possessed,  
Trying with all of his monstrous might to escape,  
To free himself of the prison of this man's hands.  
For the first time inside of the mead-hall,  
Grendel was struck with fear. It pierced his limbs,  
Creeping inside of him like the cold hands of Death,  
Seeping its way into his bones, his blood, his brain,  
Taking away his strength, freezing his heart in his chest.  
Before Beowulf, Grendel knew fear. Still Grendel fought,  
As though he were fighting Death himself,  
Throwing himself and Beowulf all around the mead-hall,  
Shaking and twisting, yanking and throwing whatever he could,  
All to stop Beowulf, but to no avail. The terror-monger,  
Bane of the Danes, knew terror in his heart.

All around them now, the Geats were awake,  
The lot of them surrounding Beowulf and Grendel,  
Stabbing towards his body with their stabbing-blades,  
Seeking to end his life in bloody defeat, to win victory for their lord.  
Grendel wailed, his voice filled with the rage and terror of his heart,  
A warning, a message to stop, promising death for all who attacked him.

Beowulf's grip on Grendel's arm grew ever tighter,  
Constricting, like a snake would the mouse,  
And soon, a scream rent itself from Grendel's throat  
As the man pulled, ripping and tearing flesh, and muscle,  
And bone, destroying Grendel's arm and rending it  
From his very body. The black blood, strong and thick,  
Flowed from the shadow-stalker's would, pouring in droves  
Across the mead-hall floor, covering Beowulf in the terror-monger's slime.

Grendel fled, leaving behind him  
Now the terror of the mead hall, maimed and dying,  
Feeling, with every pint, every drop, his life drain from his body.  
He fled across the countryside, toward his death-den. Now,  
No animal feared him; the air did not stir,  
Nor did the earth beneath him quiver. His life's blood,  
Tired of all the rage and hatred, tired of trying,  
Released itself from his body, pouring  
In streams, across the ground.

Grendel reached his den, knowing now that his life was at an end.  
His strength had left him, alone and desolate,  
Unable to move, or to think,  
Unable even to remember why he had hated so much,  
Why he had spent his life so filled with rage,  
So filled with the desire to end the lives of those around him.  
Why such an angry life? What had he done with his time?  
Grendel's final thoughts, seeping through his mind,  
The trickle of emotions slowing, evaporating, in his weakness,  
Filled, once again, with hope. Maybe now, at the end,  
As his life left him, melting away, leaving him stranded, maybe now  
He could have another chance to grasp that ball of light in his hands,  
Perhaps now he could hold it, embrace it, and have his chance  
And to share in the warmth of Life under the sun.

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Thanks for reading. Please review-I love the compliments _and_ the criticism, so let me know how I'm doing.

Later!

MidnightxBluexBlack


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